Deacon, This Is For You
by KarenES
Summary: Multi-part story that starts with 1x14 "Dear Brother." First chapter is an intro; subsequent chapters will flashback to some of Deacon's earlier birthdays.
1. Chapter 1

Casual sex. Uncomplicated, no-holds-barred, no-strings-attached fun with someone you didn't know well and sure as hell weren't in love with. No jealousy, no recriminations - just recreation.

Other people seemed to do a lot of it. Men, women, the famous, the infamous, the ordinary.

Not Rayna Jaymes. No, not even when she was pretty damned drunk and alone with an adorable, dark-haired, bearded guitar player with dancing eyes and strong arms. A man – _a younger man_ – who'd made it clear from the start that he wanted her in his bed.

But Rayna did not end up in that bed in his hotel room – oh, no. She'd wound up crying her eyes out on the toilet seat in his bathroom, thinking about her kids and her marriage and another bearded guitar player who'd made it clear he wanted her, too.

Rayna shook her head, crumpled up the supermarket tabloid in her hand and pitched it violently across the room, where it hit her sister squarely in the chest as she walked in.

"Wow, incoming!" Tandy said, deftly catching the pages as they fell around her. She walked into the kitchen and dumped them into the trash can under the sink. "Why are you still torturing yourself with that crap?"

Rayna sighed and climbed off the couch, stooping to gather up the rest of the scandal sheets Tandy had purchased that morning. She set them on the kitchen counter and sat down on a stool across from her sister.

"I just hate that the girls saw that, especially Maddie," she said. "And you know what's really pathetic? They got this whole, big fantasy story, where I'm supposedly screwing all these men, right? And in real life, the only one not actually _getting any _is me. Pretty ironic, huh?"

"Pretty typical. Women always get blamed for this stuff; it's the old Scarlet Letter thing. With men, it's always just 'boys being boys,' right? They can't help themselves."

Tandy picked up one of the tabloids and scanned the front page again.

"Poor Mr. Mayor, wronged by the Evil Queen of Country," she said, shaking her head and opening up the magazine before a small smile crossed her face.

"Tandy, it's not funny."

"I know it's not, honey, but … did you see this?"

Tandy was growing increasingly unable to suppress a giggle. She turned the paper around so Rayna could read the caption.

_Strummin' keeps her hummin.'_

"Oh god, I know!" Rayna felt herself starting to grin, too. "Isn't that awful? Do you know I got asked today if there was a sex tape? Can you imagine - me, making a sex tape!?"

Tandy was practically doubled over by now and Rayna couldn't resist laughing, too. The whole situation was painful, but its absurdity was also apparent, if you looked at it the right way. And frankly, there wasn't much else to do but laugh. It felt good, like taking some of the power away from the scum who made a living bringing other people down.

They laughed a long time and eventually, as they regained their composure, Tandy reached over and swept the entire pile of tabloids into the trash. Then she started rummaging around the kitchen, opening and closing cabinets.

"What are you looking for?"

"Coffee. I'm gonna pour us both a cup and we are just gonna keep laughing at that nonsense. It does us good."

"Babe, you're gonna to have to pour me something stronger than coffee if you really want to cheer me up today," Rayna said, pointing: "Middle shelf, one cabinet to your left."

"It's barely past lunchtime. You drinking already?"

Tandy located the coffee and filters, then turned to look quizzically at Rayna.

"Noooo… I'm just talking. Coffee'd be great."

Tandy pulled out the pot on the counter and started measuring grounds and water.

"So, who's Deacon dating these days?"

"What? Why are you asking me that?"

"Well, you said you were the only one not _getting any_. I know about Teddy, the little bastard, and I don't give a hoot about Liam. Who's Deacon sleeping with?"

"Oooohhhh, I dunno, really. I mean, Juliette Barnes has got him wrapped around her little finger on this tour we're doing, that's for sure, but …"

"Juliette Barnes? What is she, 15?"

"Oh, I guess she's legal - barely. You can't believe the way she's been throwing herself at him. She's giving this birthday party for him tonight, down at the Bluebird."

"I thought he hated parties. Stays home an' watches old movies most years, doesn't he?"

"He does. This is a surprise."

Tandy plugged in the coffeemaker and flipped the switch, then leaned against the counter and regarded her sister.

"You really think they're sleeping together?"

"Ummm … no, probably not. I dunno. I wouldn't put it past him, but …"

From the start, Rayna had suspected Deacon and Juliette were having sex, but she wasn't so sure after Chicago. Deacon was nothing if not loyal; she couldn't imagine him kissing her if he was with Juliette. That just wouldn't be like him. No matter what other problems they'd had when they were together, she'd never worried about him being with other women.

At least he wasn't a cheater. Unlike Teddy.

Thinking about Teddy hurt Rayna more than she'd ever imagined it could. She'd never fallen in love with the clean-cut, rock-steady man who had salvaged her from the wreckage of her own life, so long ago. The feeling was closer to gratitude, initially. But she had come to love him over the years, and the realization that he was stepping out – and with his old girlfriend, no less - had hit her hard. It was humiliating, and it stung, thinking about how she'd bought his line and defended him publicly. And privately, even to Deacon.

The little wife, standin' by her man - while he played her for a fool and betrayed all of them.

"But what, Rayna?"

"Huh?"

Tandy was bound and determined to get something juicy out of her about "the Deacon of it all." Her sister had been wonderful today, but Rayna was not about to confide completely in her. Not about Deacon's kiss, their thwarted meeting in her penthouse in Chicago or her night with Liam. She and Teddy didn't call Tandy "The Mouth of the South" for nothing. And over two decades of celebrity, if Rayna had had any success keeping her private life private, it had been because she knew how to keep her mouth shut, even around family.

"You were telling me about Deacon and Juliette…."

"You know Tandy, I try not to think about Deacon's … love life. It's none of my business. And I don't really care who he's sleeping with."

"Uh-huh." Tandy rolled her eyes. "It's me you're talking to here, Rayna."

Tandy handed a coffee mug across the counter and Rayna took a long sip, smiling diplomatically.

"Thank you for the coffee. You've been wonderful today. I really do appreciate it."

Rayna picked up her cell phone and checked it. _Missed call. Deacon. _

"Shit."

"What - don't tell me those creeps got a hold of your cell number?"

Tandy craned her neck and caught sight of Rayna's screen before it went dark.

"Rayna. You still haven't talked to him?"

"Tandy, I can't talk to him on the phone, I told you. Not about this. And I can't get out of this damned house. You know, I was always so bound and determined to be independent. I never thought I'd want to run around town with a bodyguard and a P.A., like Juliette does. But it's times like these I wish I hadn't been so stubborn, I swear."

Tandy nodded, but she wasn't about to be sidetracked by a discussion on the benefits of entourage.

"But you gotta be thinking about him, Rayna, right? Deacon, I mean. He's kinda been waiting in the wings all these years, hasn't he? An' you're gonna be single before long …"

Rayna took a deep breath and exhaled noisily.

"I know. I mean, yeah. I've been thinking about him. Believe me. It's just … god, Tandy. The idea of me and Deacon ... again. For real? I mean, that just … well, it about scares me to death, I gotta tell ya."

Tandy leaned over and put her hand on Rayna's. She had long ago defined herself as the efficient, practical counterpart to her flashy, artistic sister. But she was not above living vicariously through Rayna's angst-filled love life and this conversation was right up her alley.

"I know, Rayna. It's just, well, it never seemed to stop you before. And he's a completely different person now, you gotta remember that."

"Yeah, I know. I mean, he's practically my best friend. It's just, well… our lives are so different now. I'm different, he's different – thank god he's different. But Teddy's always gonna be in my life, some way or other. And then there's the girls and raising them and us living in this house and ... I don't even see how Deacon could ever fit into all that."

She looked up. Tandy was staring at her.

"The girls. You mean, Maddie."

"Yeah, Maddie. You know how I feel about that, how Teddy feels. It's … complicated."

Tandy nodded. "I know, I guess it was easier before. Even though he was messing up, you didn't have anybody else to worry about. How many times did you two break up and get back together, anyway? I lost track."

"Oh god, I have no idea. A lot. It was like we were just … so entangled, y'know? I couldn't stop myself running back to him, no matter what he did. I'd say I wasn't gonna put my heart through it all again, and then I'd let him sweet talk me, like I didn't know exactly where things were gonna go. And then we'd get back together, and it would just start all over."

Rayna's voice trailed off as she lost herself in thought, staring into her coffee mug. After a long while, she looked up at Tandy again.

"I really thought that someday I'd just drown with him. It was a lotta years ago. But sometimes it feels like it wasn't long ago at all. I mean, thinking about it still hurts. A lot of it still hurts. And I thought I was done with all that, but … maybe I'm not. Or maybe I'm too old to go back there."

"You _have_ been thinking a lot about him."

"Well, it's his birthday. And I was thinking if things were … different, maybe it'd be me and Maddie planning a party for Deacon tonight. But then I think about Daphne, and what an angel she is, and how she's worth everything I've gone through with Teddy, y'know? She's worth every minute of it, and a lot more."

Rayna looked up, her eyes glistening.

Tandy walked around the counter and put her arm around her sister, holding her tightly.

Rayna sniffled a couple of times and wiped her eyes, too tough to let her sister see her dissolve into sobs over a heart-to-heart in the damned kitchen.

"Hey, it's about time to pick up the girls, you're gonna do that, right? I wanna keep working on this song. I got some ideas I wanna get down before I forget 'em."

"Absolutely. Soccer practice after school today, right?" Tandy released Rayna and went in search of her purse. "What's the song?"

"I don't really know yet. Maybe something I'll put on the new album, if it works out."

"Well, keep working on it. I'm gonna go. Don't answer your phone. Unless it's Deacon, and you finally work up the guts to talk to him."

Tandy smiled at her. Rayna smiled back, then picked up her coffee cup and returned to the piano, revisiting the minor chord progression that had been echoing in her head all day.

_Sunrise hurts, as much as you …_


	2. Chapter 2

**February 1995**

"Okay, Sunshine, time's up. I let you sleep as long as I could, but it's a quarter to 11. You gotta get up."

Deacon's voice was low, but even the sound of his bedroom door opening elicited an anguished groan from underneath the pile of blankets on his bed.

"Ray, last night you made me promise to get you up so you could go to some wardrobe fittin' this afternoon. Now, if you get up right this minute, you'll have time to get back to your place and change."

Deacon set a glass full of orange liquid down on his dresser and pulled up the blinds in his room, letting in the late morning sun.

"Aaaagggghhhhhhh," came the wounded cry from his bed. "_Close the blinds_." Rayna herself was not visible under the blankets, but tufts of her hair were sticking out every which way, something like the mane of a very untidy lion.

Deacon grinned at the sight. "Look here: I fixed you the Claybourne secret recipe hangover cure, guaranteed to make you feel at least …. 30 percent better."

"_Close the fucking blinds_, Deacon. I am not kidding." Her voice had the grim edge to it that she typically reserved for poorly prepared studio musicians.

"Okay, okay …" He pulled the blinds back down, opting instead to turn on a lamp across the room. "C'mon darlin' …"

"Aspirin? Tylenol?"

"Got it right here. You can chase it down with this stuff. I promise it'll help."

He pulled back the covers. Underneath them, Rayna was naked save for a pair of sparkly pink bobby socks, her jewelry and her party makeup, applied so carefully the night before, which looked like it had migrated an inch down her face.

Deacon turned away, unable to suppress another grin, and looked around on the floor for the blue button-down shirt he had worn the night before.

By the time he located it, she was sitting up, looking as miserable as he'd ever seen her.

He draped his shirt around her shoulders and handed her the pills and the glass.

"Was it those fancy drinks with the little umbrellas, or the bourbon-and-sodas you started drinkin' around midnight that did ya' in, Ray?"

"Deacon. This is _so_ not funny. And it is _so_ not fair. It was your birthday party and I'm the one with the stupid hangover."

"Yeah, well, I believe that's No. 129 on the 'Benefits of Sobriety' checklist they hand around at AA. 'You won't **ever again** wake up after your birthday party with a hangover.' Course what they don't tell ya is that you won't **ever again** want to go to a party, because it sucks to be the only one stone cold sober when everybody else is drinkin'."

Rayna squinted at him. He might be sober, but he was determined to hate every minute of it. She pushed her arms into the sleeves of his shirt, put the pills in her mouth and swallowed them with a long draught from the glass.

"Ugh … what the hell?"

"Don't even ask. That cure was cooked up by a long line of hard-drinkin' moonshiners and passed from father to son for generations. Just drink it. All of it."

With no strength to argue, she closed her eyes and chugged the drink down obediently.

"That's it. Good girl. Now, how about I make you some eggs?"

"Oh god … no thanks. I think I'm gonna throw up." She ran her hands through her hair, making a largely unsuccessful attempt to tame the mane into a ponytail. "What time is it?"

"It's after 11. You got an hour until that fittin', unless you want me to call an' cancel it for ya."

She sighed. "No. I made 'em promise to come in on a Saturday, I can't cancel now."

Even the worst hangover was no match for the Wyatt sense of responsibility. Moving slowly and deliberately, she crawled out of the bed and walked to the bathroom. Deacon opened the blinds and the window, straightened the bedcovers and walked around the room, collecting her clothes from where she'd stripped them off the night before. He stopped a moment to properly admire the lacy black panties and matching bra he found by the door, then laid them out on the bed.

The bathroom door opened and Rayna appeared, engulfed in his shirt with the sleeves pushed up, toothbrush in hand, foam dripping down her chin.

"Deacon, how much longer are we gonna do this?"

"Huh? Do what?"

"This: Your place and my place. I don't have time to go home and shower, so I'm gonna have to go to this meeting in the same clothes I was wearing last night. And the only makeup I got with me is the stuff I threw in my purse before the party. I'm gonna look ridiculous."

She turned and went back into the bathroom, continuing to rant over the running water. He followed her, leaning in the doorway, watching her warily as she scooped Vaseline out of a jar and removed her smudged makeup. This was a recurring argument and it was a particularly dangerous time to have it, with the mood she was in this morning.

"You got your stuff here, you got a drawer, just like I got over at your place."

"Deacon, I have got a toothbrush, a box of tampons and some underwear here. That's it. And that's crap."

She shut the door abruptly, leaving him outside. He shook his head, making a mental note to watch how much she drank at the next party. The idea struck him as amusing: That would be quite the role reversal.

Deacon walked out to the kitchenette and poured himself the last cup of coffee, making a new pot so she could have some before she left. She emerged a short while later, looking perfectly lovely to his eyes.

"This is gonna have to do. Do I look awful?"

"Darlin' you always look great to me, but I'm just your boyfriend, so I guess that doesn't count. Here, I made y'some coffee."

He poured her a cup and walked over with it, a warm and comforting peace offering.

She took it from him and set it down on the counter, then surprised him with a fierce hug. She kissed his cheek and his neck and held him close, then laid her head on his shoulder. "Happy birthday. I'm sorry to be such a bitch this morning. It's just … my head really, really hurts."

He wrapped his arms around her, grateful that the storm was over. "I know, sweetheart," he said, rocking her softly against his chest. "It'll get better soon."

"Deacon, I just wanna know - when are we gonna get serious about this?"

_God almighty. _

He dropped his arms and stepped back, watching as she picked up her cup and sat down at his kitchen table. He poured himself another cup and sat down across from her.

"You sure you don't want somethin' to eat?"

"No. I want to talk – about us. Us getting married, us making babies – all the stuff we keep saying we're gonna do and then putting off. I just don't think I can do it anymore."

"Ray, what's got all this stirred up in you today?"

"Well, it's your birthday, for one thing. Mine's coming up soon. We're not getting any younger and we've been together, what – forever, by now? You're sober. What are we doing?"

"I thought we were playin' music and writin' songs and takin' our act out on the road. Isn't that what we're doin'?"

"Yeah, of course, and that's great. I love what we're doing with the music, it's amazing. But … there's more to life. I want more in my life, I want you. And, well … there was a scare."

He looked at her, uncomprehending.

"There was a what?"

"A scare. Y'know …"

"No, I don't know. What're you talkin' about?"

"Deacon, geez…" She rolled her eyes and sighed, a gesture that reminded him - despite her worries - of how young she still was; barely more than a girl, really.

He waited, looking at her patiently.

She blushed, shy all of a sudden, and looked down, minutely studying her coffee cup before she spoke again.

"Remember we did that three-day swing, Knoxville to Chattanooga to Memphis, a while back?"

"Yeah."

"Well … I forgot to pack my pills. I figured it wasn't a big deal, I'd just double up when we got home. But, well, I was … late."

He paused a moment, brow furrowed, trying to grasp the import of her words. When he did, he spoke softly.

"Ray … why didn't you tell me?"

"It was only a couple'a days and the doctor said it was probably just, y'know, stress and being on the road, all that. And then it was… a false alarm, so … "

There was silence between them for a long moment, then he leaned forward in his chair and put his palms on the table.

"Lemme get this straight: You were late, an' you went to the doctor, and you didn't think about lettin' me in on it. What the hell, Ray? Did ya' think I wouldn't care?"

"Deacon, I didn't go to the doctor, I just called the office. And it was a false alarm." She paused, then looked directly at him. "And, if you recall, you weren't exactly around at the time, okay?"

He sat back then, stunned. He'd done so well lately, getting all the way through his last stint in rehab and staying clean for months afterwards. Up until he'd had that relapse: Another of his lost weekends, except this time it was closer to a week. Rayna had been frantic when he'd finally shown up, contrite and broken, at her door.

"_Awww, fuck_," he said, propping his elbows on the table and dropping his head into his hands. "You were dealin' with that while I was …."

"Yeah."

"God, Rayna, I'm-"

"Stop it." The edge was back in her voice now. "You apologized a million times, we got through it, you're back working the program, and we moved on. I shouldn't have mentioned it. It's your birthday and … it wasn't a big deal anyway, okay?"

He looked at her._ It was a big deal_; of course it was. But what could he say?

She put her coffee down and stood up. "Listen, I just … I gotta go."

She walked into his bedroom and emerged with her purse and jacket, avoiding his gaze.

"You need a ride?"

"No, I'm good. You goin' to a meeting today?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. I guess ... I'll see you at rehearsal."

"Yeah. See ya there."

And she turned and walked out.


	3. Chapter 3

**February 1995 (cont.)**

Deacon didn't hear from Rayna all the rest of that day, a day that felt like a week, a day in which he alternated between useless recriminations and daydreaming about disappearing into the nearest bar and never coming out. Instead, he went to not one, but two AA meetings. By the time he got to the studio late in the afternoon, Rayna was already there, showered and changed and looking beautiful, like she always did.

They worked hard for the better part of two hours and, as he got ready to wrap the session, the band surprised Deacon with a long-drawn-out rendition of "Happy Birthday" and a round of applause. He ducked his head, embarrassed as usual by any extra attention.

"Okay y'all, thanks, but I think I had enough hoopla for one year. I'm gettin' older – I get it," he announced, smiling. "No show tonight, so … everybody enjoy your free time, an' see y'all back here on …" he looked over at Rayna. "We doin' Tuesdays again?"

"Yeah, Tuesday's good. Thanks everybody."

Deacon took off his headset and picked up his music and his guitar. Bucky Dawes, the business manager Rayna had recently hired, walked over to where Deacon was packing up his gear.

"Sounded good today, Deacon. Nice party last night."

"Edgehill gets all the credit for that, but glad you could make it. And thanks for comin' out to rehearsals, gettin' to know everybody, that really helps."

"Must be great to have a Saturday night off for a change, especially on your birthday. What are you two gonna do to celebrate?"

The Edgehill party had been held on a Friday night to accommodate some visiting executives, but Deacon and Rayna had not made any plans for tonight, Deacon's actual birthday, and he hesitated. He was not sure that Rayna would even want to see him after their conversation that morning.

"Ummm, I dunno. I'm kinda tired and I think Rayna had … a pretty rough night last night so…."

"Yeah, I noticed. She really went to town at the party."

Rayna walked up in time to hear his comment.

"I dunno, Bucky, from what I remember – which isn't a lot – you had a pretty good time yourself last night."

Deacon grinned. "Yeah. Who knew the new guy could sing?"

Bucky winced, clearly embarrassed. "Oh man, it was bad, wasn't it. Good thing y'all didn't hire me for my vocal talent. Don't ever let me do somethin' like that again, okay Deac?"

Deacon laughed, clapping him on the back. "Okay. I promise I'll stop ya' before you climb up on that stage next time."

"Thanks." He picked up his bag. "Hey, you two have fun tonight, whatever you decide to do."

"Actually, Deacon's coming over to my place for dinner tonight," Rayna said, looking at Deacon and adding: "Eight o'clock sound good?"

"Um …. yeah. Sure."

"Just get her back here in one piece next week, okay Deacon?" Bucky said, as he walked out.

"Will do, Buck."

He turned to Rayna and smiled.

"Dinner at your place, huh? You cookin'?"

"Yep. Better show up hungry."

"I always do, darlin'."

"Hungry for _dinner_, Deacon."

"Riiiiight. See you at eight."

He turned up closer to a quarter 'till, a rare event for someone who ran on what Lamar Wyatt called "Claybourne Time," which lagged Central Standard by up to an hour. She was in the kitchen when he knocked; she dried her hands on a towel and went to the door.

When she opened it, he was there, leaning against her doorpost, looking tanned and relaxed, smiling wide enough to show off his dimples, with just the faintest beginnings of crow's feet crinkling up around his dark blue eyes. He had his left arm tucked behind his back and his thick brown hair was combed and still slightly wet, beard neatly trimmed over the deep cleft in his chin. He was wearing his best boots, a pair of new blue jeans, a white shirt and the black jacket he reserved for special occasions.

Rayna had been with him all of her adult life, and she knew every inch of his body as well as she knew her own. But standing there, looking like that: Deacon Claybourne could still take her breath away.

"Well … hey there, handsome."

"Well, hey yourself, pretty girl."

He stepped inside, ducking his head to kiss her and running his hand down her bare arm and back up again. The scratch of his cheek and the smell of soap, and underneath it, of his skin, sent a tingle fluttering down her spine. Then he released her and pulled a large pink box, wrapped with string, out from behind his back.

"What's this, a present for me? I thought it was your birthday."

"It's a present for me. My sister had it delivered UPS this afternoon. You know how she makes somethin' special for me every year. I hope you didn't fix dessert."

She took the box from him. "I didn't. This'll be perfect."

He closed the door and followed her into the kitchen.

"Smells awful good in here."

"Just gimme a couple minutes. We're about ready. You want a Coke? Or I got some Perrier in the 'fridge, if you wanna check."

For someone who had grown up in a household staffed by domestics, largely without a mother, Rayna was a surprisingly good cook. She didn't get to practice much, given their tour schedule and the fact that they were working most nights they were in town, but she enjoyed making dinner for Deacon whenever she had a chance.

He was extra appreciative as they ate, complimenting her on the chicken and the homemade mac-and-cheese as they chatted and laughed, the morning's tensions forgotten as they rehashed the party, debated the effectiveness of his family's hangover cure and marveled at the effort Edgehill's top brass had been making lately to keep the two of them happy. They were gaining some clout in the industry, and it felt good.

After dinner, they decided to wait on dessert while they cleared the table and cleaned up the kitchen. Then Rayna took Deacon's hand, led him out to the living room and settled him down on the couch. She disappeared into her bedroom for a moment and returned to find him stretched out, boots off, feet propped up on her coffee table.

She handed him a package wrapped in red paper with a white bow and sat down next to him, lining her feet up alongside his.

"Awww … Rayna. You didn't have to do this."

"I wanted to. Just open it."

He ripped open the paper to find a kids' video: Disney's 1957 classic, "Old Yeller." He had talked about his favorite movie so many times, Rayna had snapped it up when she'd seen it for sale at Hollywood Video a few weeks earlier.

"Oh man, they released this on video!? That's so great! Wow. Thank you, Ray. Hey, you wanna watch it right now?"

"Y'know Deacon, I'm glad you like it, but I think I'll let you watch it yourself. My sister and I saw it on TV one time when we were kids, and I think I cried for two days straight."

"But it's not really sad, not if ya' watch the whole thing. See, it's a classic story about-"

"The unconditional love between a boy and his dog. Yeah, I know Deacon. And then the dog gets rabies and the boy has to shoot it dead. That is the about the saddest damn movie ever made. Back when they actually used to make sad movies."

"True. If they ever do a remake, Yeller'll probably recover from the rabies _and_ the gunshot wounds and they'll all live happily ever after, right?

"Something like that."

"Well. I will watch it, next time I get a chance. Thank you. That's really nice of you."

She beamed at him, pleased, then got up and started into the kitchen.

"Guess I oughta cut that birthday cake now. You want a big piece or a little one?"

He put out a hand and caught her arm, stopping her in her tracks.

"Hey Ray, wait a sec. I … want to talk to you about somethin'."

She turned around and looked at him quizzically. He sat up, placed his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands together. She walked over and sat down in the chair across from him.

"Sounds serious."

"Well, I guess it is, kinda. You know ... what we were talkin' about this morning, your place an' my place - all that?"

"Um-hmmm."

"I been thinkin' about it all day an' … well, you're right. It's stupid, us keepin' two apartments when we're practically livin' together anyway."

"Deacon-"

"Hang on, I got somethin' else I wanna say. See, when I'm drinkin' … when I _was_ drinkin' … well, there's just stuff I don't – _I didn't_ - want you to have to see. Stuff I don't want anybody to see. And … I guess I worried you'd feel like you had to keep tabs on me, or like you were just waitin' on me to … screw up or disappoint you, or somethin' like that."

He had been looking intently at her as he spoke, and she could see that this admission was not an easy one.

"So, I mean … that's the reason I been hangin' on to my own place all this time. It's not 'cause … 'cause I don't love you, or I don't wanna be with you. I hope you _get_ that."

She was looking at him, quietly. Then she took a deep breath; she had something she wanted to say, too.

"Sometimes, Deacon … sometimes, it feels like you love … _that_ … more than you love me. Like you choose drinking over me. And it hurts."

Her eyes were bright with tears, suddenly, and the truth of her insight stung him, deep down. He swallowed hard.

"Rayna, I'm tryin' the best I can. But the last thing I ever want to do is hurt you."

An awkwardness hung in the room between them: Something unresolved, words left unsaid. They each felt it, but they had had enough pain for one birthday. The tonic of tonight's honesty would have to be enough, for now.

She looked down at her hands, then back up at him.

"I don't want to hurt you either, Deacon."

"Okay." He held a hand out to her. "C'mere."

She stood up, walking around the coffee table and taking his hand, letting him pull her down next to him on the couch. He put his arm around her and she curled her legs up underneath her body and settled her head back on his shoulder. They sat like that, quietly deriving solace from each other, for a long while.

"Are we really gonna move in together, Deacon?"

"Hmmm … well, yeah, that's the idea. Your place or mine?"

"How about we get our own place? I mean, just lose both apartments. With what we're making now, together, we could probably buy a little house. Nothin' too fancy, maybe over in one of those neighborhoods near the studio."

She paused a moment.

"Gosh, y'know, I saw a sign go up the other day on this place I've always loved. Oh, Deacon, you should see it."

He shook his head, smiling to himself, then turned and looked down at her. She was gazing up at him, happy now, looking exactly like she did the first day they met, the day he'd fallen in love with her. There was no use in him trying to resist her: First of all, his willpower was not exactly legendary; and second, Rayna held him completely in her sway.

"Oh boy, you got this all figured out, don't you? Rayna, you do what you want; that's what you're gonna do anyway. Just promise me one thing."

"What's that?"

"Don't ever ask me to live in Belle Meade."

"Belle Meade! Oh hell Deacon - no way! We don't need one of those big mansions. All we need is a small place, somethin' cozy. Well … not too small. We might as well have a few extra rooms, for when we start having kids."

"Rayna, I swear I can't figure why you'd be so hell-bent on bringin' another Claybourne into this world. You do know that I'm not exactly the only drunk in my family, right?"

"Oh, Deacon," she said, smiling her best seductive smile, and pushing him down on the couch until he was lying on his back, his head propped up on a pillow. Then she straddled his hips and stretched out on top of him, her arms crossed on his chest and her chin resting on her hands, so her face was so close to his that their noses were nearly touching. He shifted his weight to accommodate her, then brought his fingers up to brush her hair away from her face and rub her temples.

"Soooooo, you're telling me that all the Claybourne men stay out half the night and get into bar fights and call their girlfriends from jail."

"Oh, sure. Just about every Friday and Saturday, when the weather's warm."

"And I bet they're all just as stubborn as you."

"Mules. Every single one of 'em."

"But are they all as good-lookin' as you?"

"Hmmm. Some of 'em would probably say I'm the ugly duckling of the family."

"Well, that explains it."

He twirled a strand of her hair between his fingers.

"Explains what?"

"Why the Claybourne women put up with 'em."

"Oh, well - the Claybourne women. See, that's a whole different story. They are about the sweetest, kindest, most talented, most beautiful women in the world. Salt of the earth, really."

"Guess we better have a girl, then."

"Hmmm."

Rayna pulled her head back, catching a far-away look on Deacon's face that she'd never seen there before.

"A daughter. Yeah, I guess that'd …. really be somethin', wouldn't it?"

She leaned down and kissed him tenderly on the mouth, thinking how she loved him more than anything else in the world.

He smiled at her.

"Is that why you put up with me all these years, Ray - my good looks?"

"Well, you're not half-bad on the guitar, and you can sing harmony, so there's that. But …."

"But what?"

"Well, I'm sorry to tell you this on your birthday, Deacon, but the real reason I keep you around is for the sex."

"Sorry?! Are you kiddin' me? Darlin', that's about the nicest thing anybody's ever said to me."

She laughed, then kissed him again.

"Stop it."

"It's true."

They were both laughing now, between small kisses and the inevitable stirrings of heat that arose between them. She hitched her body forward so her pelvis covered his and began pressing herself against him rhythmically in time with her kisses, subtly at first and then more insistently as his arms crept around her back.

He groaned, picking up on her rhythm until she stopped abruptly and pulled her head up, bracing herself on her elbows and tossing her hair aside so she could look down seriously at him once more.

"Deacon ... we're gonna be okay this time, aren't we?"

"Yeah, Ray, we are."

"Happy birthday. I love you."

"I love you too."


	4. Chapter 4

**February 1999**

"How's your lamb chop? I hope it's cooked the way you like it."

"Mmmmm … it's delicious. And these little potatoes are so crispy."

He smiled, the crow's feet crinkling up around his eyes. She smiled back.

"Thank you for dinner, it's been wonderful."

"You're welcome. Have I told you how beautiful you look this evening?"

"Well, yes actually. Three times so far … not that anybody's counting."

His smile deepened and he reached over and took her hand in his, caressing it with his thumb and then lifting it to his mouth for a kiss.

"You dazzle me, Rayna Jaymes. You really do."

She looked down at her plate, then glanced back up at him, meeting his gaze. The lust in his eyes, as he turned her hand over and pressed two kisses to her palm, was unmistakable.

_Talk about wolves leading lambs to the slaughter. _

She sympathized, briefly, with her entrée. Clearly, she was on the menu for dessert.

"Dessert? Coffee? May I bring you two anything else tonight?"

The tuxedoed waiter with the neat black bow tie removed their plates and pulled out a small metal scraper that he used to expertly sweep the white tablecloth free of crumbs.

"No thank you, Jonathan. That is, unless you want something else, Rayna?"

"Oh no, thanks. I'm not gonna be able to eat another bite all week."

"Very good, Mr. Conrad. Shall I have the valet bring your car around, sir?"

"That'd be wonderful Jonathan, thanks," Teddy said, removing his wallet from the breast pocket of his navy suit jacket. He pulled out two $20s and handed them to the waiter.

"Thank_ you_, sir."

"Teddy, I think I am going to visit the little girl's room, if you'll excuse me."

She laid her napkin down and started to push back from the table, but he was up first, pulling her chair out for her and laying a hand lightly on her bare upper arm.

"I'll meet you at the car," he whispered in her ear. "Don't forget that bottle of champagne I've got on ice at my place. We don't want to keep it waiting."

She laughed nervously and glanced around the opulent dining room.

"It's been so long since I've had dinner at the Belle Meade Country Club, I hope I can still find my way to the ladies' room."

"Well, from what Tandy tells me, you two girls practically grew up here," he said, pointing to one corner of the large room. "These are your people, Rayna. They're our people."

"Yeah … I guess so. See you out front."

Rayna walked across the room, drawing several admiring glances, and down a hallway that was, indeed, familiar. Southern tradition and the power of old money: Neither one would ever change, not if "her people" had their way.

She pushed open a door and glanced around at the same old cherry blossom wallpaper and plush burgundy carpet. Mercifully, the lounge was deserted. She sank down on a bench in front of a large mirror and pulled out her makeup bag, freshening her lipstick and eyeshadow. Then she took out a brush and began rearranging her hair.

The evening's conclusion presented a dilemma. Teddy was a wonderful man, everything a single, thirty-something woman could want: Charming, successful, steady as a rock. They had been dating for more than three months now, since her sister had invited him for Thanksgiving dinner, and they got along wonderfully.

He had told her from the start that he understood her "situation" and knew she needed time; that she wasn't ready for a serious relationship. But lately, it was clear he was becoming impatient with the way she had kept him firmly at arm's length, emotionally and physically. And he hadn't exactly been subtle in conveying his expectation that all that was going to change tonight.

He was handsome and appealing: His kisses and caresses were enjoyable; there was really no reason not to put that expensive champagne to good use, back at his place. Plus, Rayna was aware that she might be accused of leading him on, spending so much time with him lately.

It was just …

Rayna fished around in her purse for the flashy toy that newly corporate Edgehill Republic Records Inc. had handed out to all its top talent at Christmastime. As she located the cell phone and flipped it open, checking for missed calls, the date caught her eye.

_Tomorrow was his birthday._

She sat stock still then, as the hollow space at the base of her ribcage opened up and pain flooded in like a tidal wave, overwhelming her.

_Six months gone by, and just the thought of him still hurt like holy hell. Fuck._

Rayna propped her elbows on the counter in front of her and leaned her forehead into the palms of her hands. It had been the right thing to do; everyone told her so. And she knew it too, in her head. But asking him to move out had been the hardest thing she'd ever done.

_Stepping up to the microphone that first time on stage at the Ryman? That had been easy by comparison._

How could she possibly have sex with Teddy, how could she wake up in his bed tomorrow? How could she, when she still missed Deacon – when she still missed making love with Deacon - so much that she had reached for him, languorously, in bed that very morning, forgetting in her sleepy haze that the space next to her was empty? How could she when she'd spent the next 20 minutes sobbing into her pillow, curled into a ball of raw grief?

_I will not grit my teeth and go through the motions tonight. I won't do it._

Teddy was just going to have to understand, and give her more time. And if he wasn't okay with that, so be it.

Rayna took a deep breath, gathered up her things and walked out to the valet stand, where Teddy was holding open the door of his black Lincoln Continental for her with an eager grin. He talked animatedly – something about the killing he was going to make on his latest real estate deal – as they drove through the darkness. But Rayna was not listening.

"Teddy, I think we need to-"

Just then her cell phone began to ring.

"Oh geez, sorry. I better get that."

She pulled out the phone and flipped it open.

"Hey Cole, nice to hear from you! Well, I'm just fine, thanks, how about you? Teddy and I - yeah, Teddy Conrad – are just leaving the club. I had the most delicious lamb chop over there tonight, I really did…. Hang on, Coleman, I'm sorry. What did you say?"

Rayna's chatty tone shifted so abruptly that Teddy looked over at her, concerned.

"What do you mean he … oh, god. Oh no, Coleman. How did you hear? Oh my god ... you know tomorrow's his birthday, right? Um-hmmm … so where did they find him? Oh Jesus, Cole… no, I'm not panicking, but …."

Rayna leaned against her head against the window, taking a shaky breath, seemingly trying to brace herself against some dreaded onslaught.

"Rayna, what's going on? Is something wrong?"

Teddy placed a hand on her shoulder, but she shook her head quickly and held up her left hand, silencing him.

"Where are they taking him? Umm, yeah I know where that is. Yes, thanks Cole. Thanks for letting me know."

She snapped her phone shut, threw it in her purse and turned to face him, suddenly all business.

"I'm sorry, Teddy, but I'm gonna have to take a rain check tonight. There's been an emergency and a … um, a friend of mine … might be in trouble. I need to get over to the ER at St. Thomas' Hospital."

"What kind of emergency, Rayna? Is Coleman involved in this?"

"No, he was just calling to let me know about … a situation. Can you just take me home? I'm so sorry."

"Rayna … let me take you to St. Thomas'. I don't want you to have to go there alone. Your father would kill me."

She'd been gazing anxiously out the window, but she looked over at him then with steely eyes, hot anger on her face.

"You leave my father out of this, Teddy Conrad. I am absolutely not kidding. I don't want him even hearing about this. Ever."

He had no idea what had set her off, but he backed down quickly.

"No, of course not, Rayna. I won't mention it, if you don't want me to. But please at least let me go with you tonight."

Rayna looked at him, noting the square in his shoulders and the tight line of his firm jaw. She realized suddenly how much she had come to depend on this calm, strong man; realized how easy it was to depend on him, and how good it felt to finally have someone dependable in her life.

"Thank you, I … would appreciate that, Teddy."

Theodore Conrad was no knight in shining armor, but he certainly had been born to play the part. He was, in fact, what most people would call "a pleasant guy," achieving only middling success in school and in his real estate and finance business. His main talent was capitalizing on the stability he radiated, that of a man who could be counted on in a crisis. It was this reputation as unflappable and efficient, rather than any real gift, that had propelled him forward in life.

He'd recognized from their first meeting that Rayna Jaymes was a woman who needed rescuing. And during the time they'd been seeing each other, he hadn't stopped marveling at his good fortune, or reveling in the way other men looked at him when they were together.

It wasn't that Teddy had ever been a big country music fan. In fact, music in general wasn't particularly important to him, and he regarded musicians with the natural suspicion of the untalented.

But Rayna – well, she was a different story. He was rapidly falling in love with her - and he hoped she'd been feeling the same way.

Of course, both Lamar and Tandy had warned him from the outset that winning Rayna over would be difficult. They hadn't exactly spelled out the details of her disastrous, 11-year relationship, but from what Teddy had surmised from the supermarket tabloids, Rayna had had serious trouble in the boyfriend department.

Now, he suspected the man who had destroyed Rayna's life up until now was also responsible for destroying his meticulous plans for their evening together.

He pulled onto the parkway and headed away from Belle Meade, toward the center of Nashville. They drove along in silence, bypassing the bright lights of downtown, as Rayna took deep breaths to try and steady her nerves.

"Rayna, can you tell me what's going on? Is this about your … guitar player? Clybone?""

"Claybourne. Uh, Deacon Claybourne, yeah. I don't know how much you know about it, but he's … had some difficulties, over the years, with substance abuse. Tonight it looks like he may have overdosed. Some hotel manager found him passed out and called 9-1-1."

Teddy had never met Deacon Claybourne and he didn't want to. But it was clear to him that the man was a low-class drunk who had latched onto Rayna when she was young and vulnerable, and ridden her success to the top of the industry, taking the best years of her life and giving precious little in return.

His own father had been the kind of manipulative bum who was good at just one thing in life: Getting some kind of stranglehold over a woman and then taking advantage of her for years. Teddy despised both of them.

"I've …. heard a little about him, yes. Is it just … booze or is he hooked on … something else …?"

"It started out with the drinking, years ago. That was bad enough. But he did a couple stays in rehab and it seemed like he was making progress, getting on the right track. Then there was an accident. It wasn't his fault – he wasn't driving – but he blamed himself. Absolutely wouldn't let himself off the hook, no matter what any of us said. And then the doctors prescribed all kinds of pain-killers, and he started taking those, and that just made everything so much worse. He wants to stay sober and he always tries so hard … he really does. But …"

Rayna's voice trailed off and he glanced over to find her staring out the window, her face turned away from him. He looked back at the road, scanning the signs for upcoming exits.

"Rayna, I know this is none of my business. But I mean, this guy's been in and out of rehab for years, right? And from what Tandy tells me, you've been paying for his treatment all along. I can't imagine what he's put you through, but I also can't help but wonder: At what point does old-fashioned morality and personal responsibility come into the equation? How many chances does a guy get to clean up his act these days?"

She made a small, strangled sound and he looked over again, startled to see her staring daggers at him.

"I think you've been spending too much time with Lamar, Teddy. Deacon's sick: It's a disease. Morality hasn't got a _fucking thing_ to do with it."

_It's a disease. Something in the genes._

Teddy had heard all about this new theory, one that let drunks and drug addicts off the hook. Oh, how his father would have loved it - a medically sanctioned chance to play the victim card. Well, the doctors and shrinks could come up with any sob story they wanted. He wasn't buying it.

But he also wasn't about to argue with Rayna. Not tonight.

"Listen, I'm sorry. I'm probably way outta line here. It's just … I never could understand why my mother put up with my dad, all those years. What is it about these bad boy-types that makes you women so loyal to them?"

She looked down at her lap, shaking her head slightly, and then looked over at him. He felt the power of her stare almost physically; a pitying glance, as if he were a child who had asked why apples fall off the tree, or what keeps human beings anchored to the face of the earth.

"I love him. I always have and I always will. It's just … I can't be with him anymore. I know it's hard to understand; I should have explained before now …"

Her voice trailed off and she turned to stare out into the darkness again, quiet for a long time. When she began speaking next, it was as though he weren't even there next to her.

"Deacon and I … we've been together since the very beginning. Since we were both just kids, really. He's my partner, my best friend, my lover … he's everything to me. It's like music, and love, and Deacon: They're all the same."

Teddy felt sick to his stomach, suddenly. How stupid had he been? Clearly, he hadn't been willing to accept the reality that was staring him in the face. How wrong he was, thinking Rayna was ready to love him. She wasn't over Claybourne, and she might never be.

There wasn't much to say after that.

Teddy drove on in silence, his face burning, until they reached the hospital. He followed the signs that said "Emergency Room" and pulled over to let her off at the wide double doors.

"I'll find a parking spot and-" he started, but she had already unbuckled her seat belt, flung open her door and disappeared into the building.


	5. Chapter 5

**February 1999 (cont.)**

"As my nurse probably told you, we've got him on IV fluids and some medication that should counteract the combined effect of the narcotics and the alcohol. We'd like to keep him here overnight and monitor his progress."

The thin, weary-looking man in the blue medical scrubs flipped through the pages of a voluminous file folder.

"Uh, Ms. Jaymes, you're his wife, right? Or … girlfriend?"

"Oh, uh, neither actually. I'm … just a friend. I mean, we been singin' together for a lotta years, so …"

"Oh. I thought I read … um, well … okay. Is there a next of kin?"

"He has a sister. I can call her."

"That's probably a good idea, though you may want to wait until tomorrow unless she's local. We don't expect him to wake up for a while. The thing is … according to our records, Mr. Claybourne's been brought into the ER more than once in the past few years in similar condition. What he's doing is very, very dangerous. I'm afraid if he continues like this … it's pretty much just a matter of time. He's lucky tonight that somebody found him when they did."

Rayna pursed her lips and looked down at the grungy hallway floor.

"I know," she said. "I'm the one that found him ... a few of those other times."

Teddy put his arm around her, then glanced back through the open door of Room 12-457, where Deacon had been moved from the emergency room. The man lying in the hospital bed scarcely resembled the good-looking, cowboy-booted guitarist Teddy had seen singing alongside Rayna in her publicity photos and once, in person, performing at a fundraiser.

He couldn't be much older than Rayna – not over 35, Teddy guessed – but his face resembled that of a much older man, hard living etched in every line and crease. His skin was sallow and he had a heavy, dark beard and long, scraggly brown hair.

By the time Teddy tuned back in to the conversation, the ER doctor was addressing Coleman, who had joined them downstairs about an hour earlier.

"If I'm not overstepping here, I may have a suggestion for you," the doctor said. "I'm a big fan, so that's why I mention it."

"I think we're definitely open to suggestions. Our playbook's pretty much exhausted at this point," Coleman said.

"Well, I worked with an addiction specialist up in Chicago for a number of years. He pioneered a medical detox treatment that's proving quite effective there, particularly for these … entrenched cases. He's moved down here to Nashville in the past year and started a clinic not very far outside of town. It combines the in-patient detox protocol with extended residential counseling and then follow-up - for as long as it takes. I think it might be very effective in this case. And Mr. Claybourne would be close enough for visits. He'd even get day passes and weekends off once he started making progress."

Rayna sighed and shook her head.

"It sounds great, but he just … he won't go back to rehab. He's tried it over and over. Been all over the country to really great programs that made all kinds of promises - and they just didn't work for him."

Coleman laid a hand on her arm.

"Rayna, I've heard good things about this detox concept. I had no idea someone was running it locally. It might be just what Deacon needs."

He turned to the doctor.

"I'd like to get whatever information you have on this place, doc. Maybe you can set up a referral for us, if you don't mind; see if we could get him in there right away?"

"Sure. I don't know what kind of a waiting list they have, but I'll do what I can. I should warn you, it's all private pay. And something like this doesn't come cheap. But like I said, I'm a fan and … it'd be a real tragedy to lose him. Not just for you folks, but for lots of people who love his music."

The doctor turned to go, but Rayna stopped him

"Thank you for saving him."

"I'm just glad I was here when they brought him in."

Rayna turned and walked back into Deacon's room, pulling a chair up next to the far side of his bed and expertly lowering the bed rail. Clearly, she knew her way around a hospital room. She leaned her elbows on the mattress, and took Deacon's hand in her own.

Coleman sat down next to her and put an arm around her shoulders.

"Rayna, this idea … this clinic: It might be Deacon's last chance."

"I know. I just … I don't think we're gonna be able to get him there. I mean, he's given up on getting better. Says he doesn't deserve it. That's why we broke up last year ... you know that."

"I do. And I've been where he is right now, and I came back from that place. I know it can happen for Deacon, too. Thing is, Rayna, there may only be one person who can save his life - and that's you."

"Cole, I tried … I promise you I tried. He won't even listen to me anymore."

"Rayna, please, hear me out. I know he still loves you. I mean, I hate to put this all on you, but you mean more to him than anyone in the world. I think you're the only one who still has a shot."

She sighed.

"I'll try, Cole. You know I'll try."

Coleman stood up.

"You're a good woman, Rayna Wyatt. A truly good woman. Your mama'd be proud."

Rayna looked at him, a smile momentarily replacing the worry on her face.

"Thanks Cole. You're a good friend ... a great friend. To Deacon and to all of us. I love you."

He smiled at her and then bent down to kiss her cheek.

"Love you too, Rayna. I'll be back in the morning."

As Coleman walked out, Teddy pulled his car keys out of his pocket.

"About ready for me to get you home?"

"No. You go on, I'm gonna stay here tonight. I don't wanna leave him."

Teddy stood at the foot of the bed a few minutes. Rayna was gazing steadily at Deacon, seemingly oblivious to his presence.

"Rayna …"

She turned and looked at him.

"Teddy. Please … I'll be fine. You've been wonderful and I know I owe you an apology, and we need to talk, and all that. I just … I can't think straight right now."

"Rayna, I'm not leaving you here alone. Let me call someone."

"There isn't anybody to call."

"Well then, unless you want to throw me out, I'm going to stay."

She looked at him, surprised.

"You really want to?"

"I do."

They passed the night in idle small talk and long stretches of silence. Rayna would not leave Deacon's side, so Teddy made a run to the hospital cafeteria, where he scored the last piece of cheesecake. They split it, along with a cup of stale coffee from a machine in the hallway.

Finally, sometime before dawn, each of them managed to doze off. Teddy pulled his chair to a far corner of the room and leaned his head back, propping his feet on a low table. Rayna stayed in her chair next to the bed, shoes off, curled up with a pillow jammed against the armrest.

By the time Teddy opened his eyes a few hours later, his legs and neck aching and stiff, Rayna had shifted position. She was folded forward in her chair, sprawled horizontally across a pillow she'd laid out on his hospital bed, her left arm flung across Deacon's torso and her head resting against his side.

Teddy watched Rayna for a few moments. He had had such grand hopes about waking up with her this morning, making her breakfast. Doing it this way was something he had never imagined.

It took him a while to realize that Deacon was awake, his face drawn and exhausted, his eyes fixed on Rayna. With his right hand, he was stroking her hair.

Teddy froze, not wanting to attract any attention, and not knowing what he would say if he did. He needn't have worried: Just then Rayna stirred, opening her eyes and lifting her head stiffly, stretching her back and sitting up.

When she was able to focus her gaze on Deacon, she gasped and brought both hands to her mouth, her eyes immediately filling with tears.

"Deacon …"

"Hey."

Nearly too weak to move his head, Deacon's eyes traveled around the room, taking in the dingy neon lighting and the tubes and wires sprouting from his bed.

"Guess I fucked up again. My head hurts like hell."

All through this ordeal, Rayna had been amazingly stoic, emitting only a muffled cry when she first caught sight of Deacon on a gurney in the ER. Teddy was halfway to persuading himself that her lack of emotion contradicted her dramatic declaration of love from the night before.

But hearing Deacon's voice seemed to give Rayna permission to fall apart, and she did just that, collapsing across his body and sobbing like the world might end.

Deacon let her cry for a few minutes and then, with what looked to be great effort, managed to put his arms around her. Teddy could see that he was crying, too.

"Rayna … shhhhh, shhhhh, shhhhh …"

If Rayna heard him, she didn't show it. She only continued crying, as if her heart was broken, shoulders shaking, the sound of her sobs muffled, mercifully, in his shoulder.

"Rayna, please stop cryin' ... you're killin' me, darlin'…"

"Deacon … " Rayna said, finally raising her face to look at him. "I thought I lost you last night."

They stared at each other, tears streaming down both their faces.

"Well … maybe you and I'd both be better off that way, Ray."

Teddy winced, expecting this bleak pronouncement to trigger a fresh round of sobs.

Instead, Rayna froze. Then she stood up, grabbed a tissue from the nightstand, wiped her cheeks and set her jaw, glaring down at Deacon.

_Talk about a steel magnolia_.

"Deacon Claybourne, if you honestly think you'd be better off dead, well – there's nothing I can do about that. But don't you _fucking dare_ tell me I'd be better off without you!"

Teddy was mortified, an unwitting voyeur to an exchange that was as raw and intimate as any he'd ever seen. But he was also riveted, unable to take his eyes off the two of them.

"You think you're guilty, that you're a murderer? Well then, why don't you punish yourself for a change! Why are you punishing me, and Coleman, and all your friends, and your sister and your little niece who idolizes you?"

She was furious, her face red, hands clenched at her sides. Deacon was staring at her, his face impassive.

"You wanna honor your best friend's memory? Well, why don't you even try? Because what you're doin' with your life right now, Deacon - giving up? It's a disgrace to his memory! It's a disgrace to all of us."

She stood there and glared at him, taking in his stony silence. Then she turned away, hands clasped under her chin, and paced the length of his bed, obviously not getting through to him and at a loss to know how.

Finally she paused in front of him, her tone softer.

"Is this what you want to do with your life? This ..." she gestured across his body, taking in his entire, pathetic state. "Is living like this making you happy?"

He stared at her a few minutes longer, then dropped his gaze.

"You know there's only one thing makes me happy, Ray. An' I already lost that," he said, his voice barely audible.

She heaved a deep sigh and seemed to make a calculation. Then she pushed aside the extra pillows on his bed and reached across him, grasping the opposite bed rail and climbing up onto the mattress next to him. He was so weak she had to lift his left arm and drape it around herself before she could stretch out beside him and take his face into her hands.

Her voice was quiet now.

"Deacon, listen to me. The doctor who saw you last night told us about a new treatment center, it's not far from here. He says they're doing great things-"

"Oh no, Rayna. I told ya the last time, I can't go back to one of those places. They just don't work for me, y'know that. An' you work too damn hard to keep wastin' your money on me."

"Deacon …"

"Rayna! I don't deserve it; we both know that."

She closed her eyes, then looked back up at him.

"You say you know what makes you happy? Well, what if you could get ... _that_ ... back again? What if _we_ could? Maybe you don't deserve another chance, Deacon. But you know what? I do. I deserve it."

"I can't Rayna, I swear …."

"Deacon, if you love me … I'm begging you: Try it one more time, for me. Please."

"Ray, you don't know how hard it is..."

"No, I don't. But I never lost faith in you and I'm not going to now. You can do this, Deacon. You can do it for me."

He sighed and looked away. He was quiet for a long time, his eyes closed, head dropped back on the pillow, his face turned toward the ceiling. When he finally look back at her, there was surrender in his eyes.

"Yeah … okay."

She grabbed him around the neck and clung to him.

"I'm doin' this for you, Ray, and I'll probably just disappoint ya again, but …"

She reached up and put her hand over his mouth.

"Shut up, Deacon. Just … thank you."

They held each other for a long moment.

"Hey Ray, can I ask ya somethin'?"

"Yeah."

"Who's _that_?"

Teddy looked up from the spot on the floor where he'd been staring, embarrassed at what he was witnessing but unsure of how to exit the room without attracting notice. Deacon and Rayna were both staring at him.

"Oh … that's Teddy. He's a friend of Tandy's … an' mine. He and I ... he, um, brought me over here last night when Coleman called and he stayed with me."

Deacon took in Teddy's navy suit and dress shirt – collar open and tie stuffed in his breast pocket by now - and Rayna's crumpled cocktail dress.

"What, were y'all, like, out on a date or somethin'?"

Rayna looked over at Teddy. He took the opportunity to approach Deacon's bedside.

"I'm Teddy Conrad, Mr. Claybourne."

"Deacon's fine."

"Deacon," Teddy said, extending his right hand.

But Deacon was holding Rayna for the first time in months and he wasn't about to let her go. There was an awkward pause before Teddy drew his hand back, putting it in his pocket.

"Well anyway, I'm glad you're feeling better."

"Thanks for stayin' with her, man, I appreciate it."

"Sure. Rayna, I think I'm going to go. Cole will be here soon, maybe he can give you a ride home? I've got to work today."

"Sure, thanks Teddy."

"Okay. See you later."

As he walked out, Deacon looked at Rayna.

"Who _is_ that guy? Looked like he was straight outta your daddy's country club."

"Yeah, that's 'cause he is. One of _my people_, he says."

"_Your people?_ That's bullshit, Rayna. Your people are music people."

Rayna watched Teddy walk down the hallway, then turned her gaze back to Deacon.

"Hey ... happy birthday. You know it's your birthday, right?"

"No shit. Is it really?"

"Yeah, it really is. And you know what? You just gave yourself the best birthday present ever, deciding to go back to rehab."

"Darlin', havin' you right here next to me is the best birthday present I'll ever get."

She smiled and then smoothed the shaggy hair off his face, tucking it behind his ears.

"You look like a goddamn hippie, Deacon Claybourne."

That drew a wan smile from him, his first in what felt like a very long time. She smiled back and reached up to kiss him on the mouth. He kissed her back, and suddenly the memory of how glorious it was to be with him - and happy - flooded in and filled up that space in her gut that had been achingly empty for so long.

Deacon broke off their kiss and looked down at his body, clad in a blue-speckled gown beneath the hospital blanket, a worried look on his face.

"Hmmm..."

"What's wrong!?"

"I'm just wonderin' if all the … um … equipment's still workin'."

"Deacon ... you almost died a few hours ago and _that's_ what you're wondering about right now?"

"I'm just _thinkin',_ Ray. An' hell, yeah. It's been a damn long time."

She rolled her eyes.

_Tell me about it._

"So ..."

"What?"

"So, how is the ol' ... _equipment_?"

He looked at her, his face serious.

"Let's give it another try."

He bent his head down and she reached up, slipping her left hand around the back of his neck and pulling him to her until their lips met. They kissed deeply for a long moment, their arms twining around each other, breaking off only just shy of the not-safe-for-public-consumption line.

She looked up at him, eyebrows raised.

"Well?"

He shifted slightly in the bed, then sighed with relief.

"Good to go."

She laughed then, ducking her head into his shoulder, embarrassed. When he started laughing too, she thought it was the sweetest sound she'd ever heard.

At just that moment, the morning shift nurse entered the room. She took one look at the two of them in bed together and broke into a wide smile.

"Good morning, Mr. …" she looked at the clipboard in her hand. "Mercy, is that Deacon Claybourne under all that hair!? And Rayna Jaymes, too."

"Sorry," Rayna said, starting to get up. "I'll get outta your way."

"Don't rush, y'all are fine for a minute. I'll start hangin' his meds over here. It's not every day I get Rayna Jaymes and Deacon Claybourne to start off my shift. Kinda makes my day, seein' the two of you cuddled up like that."

Out in the parking lot 10 minutes later, Teddy finished up a long, impromptu conversation with a business acquaintance he'd run into. He was almost all the way to his car when he heard footsteps behind him.

"Teddy!"

He turned to find Rayna running to catch up with him, out of breath.

"Rayna. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, he's fine. The nurse is with him and Cole's on his way. He says it's looking good. The rehab clinic may have an opening today. Coleman'll take him over there if it works out."

"Oh, great. Glad to hear it."

She moved closer to him and took his hands in hers, looking up at him. Even disheveled and tired and straight out of another man's bed, Rayna looked beautiful to him.

"Teddy … I'm glad I caught you. I know we still need to talk and I know this isn't the right time. I just wanted to tell you – you're an amazing, amazing man. You really are. I'm so grateful to you."

"Rayna, it's okay. We'll talk later. I have to go home and get ready for work. We businessmen actually schedule meetings and appointments before noon. We don't start our days at 2 o'clock, like you musicians do."

She smiled.

"It really is a whole different world, isn't it? I just … I didn't want to let you leave without thanking you again."

He turned and got into his car, watching her walk away; watching her go back to the man who had destroyed her. The man who, Teddy was certain, would destroy her again.

Despite the crushing disappointment of the night before, as he drove out of the parking lot and headed for home, Teddy felt strangely optimistic.

Rayna might not love him, but he was sure now that she needed him. And as his father's son, Teddy knew that before long, she would need him again. That sometime, somehow, there would be a game changer for Rayna. He had no idea what it would be. He only knew that when it happened he would be there, her knight in shining armor, this time for real.


	6. Chapter 6

**February 2005**

"Whose room is this?"

Deacon glanced up from his guitar at the dark, solemn child standing in the doorway. Then he looked around the room, realizing that he had not fully scrutinized his surroundings when he had ducked inside half an hour earlier.

Clearly, he now realized, this was the bedroom of a young boy. His eyes traveled from the football posters – the kid was a big-time Titans fan, no surprise there - to the blue-and-brown checkered bedspread and the framed school portrait on the desk in front of him.

Undernearth the photo, the name "Brandon" was spelled out in wood-block letters.

"Uhhh … this is Brandon's room," he said, pointing to the picture.

"Oh."

The girl pushed her glasses up onto the bridge of her nose with her index finger and walked over to the desk, examining the photo. Then she turned to him.

"Hey, Deacon."

He smiled.

"Well hey, little Maddie. What're you doin' up here?"

She sighed. "Nothin'. I'm bored."

"Yeah, me too."

"What're you doing?"

"Playin' my guitar."

She brightened and held up the cherry red guitar case that was clutched tightly in her right hand.

"I got a guitar, too."

"I see that; your mama told me all about it. Did you get it for your birthday last week?"

"Yup."

"How old are you now?"

She put the guitar down and held up all the fingers on her right hand.

"Five! You're a real big girl. Did'ya have a happy birthday?"

She nodded, then looked at him, her face serious.

"Today's your birthday party. Are you gonna get presents?"

He laughed. "Well, I dunno about that. I guess so, maybe."

"I wish I could play my guitar."

"Did your mama show ya how?"

"No. She's too busy. Daddy doesn't know how. I'm gonna get lessons."

She reached out a hand and ran it across Deacon's guitar, tentatively, then traced her finger along the heavy steel strings.

"Deacon, wanna see my guitar?"

"I sure would, but maybe we should ask your mama. Does she know you're up here?"

"Mmmm … yeah. She and Bucky have to talk to some people at the party."

"Oh, yeah, I know all about that. Okay, well, let's see that guitar of yours then."

He slipped his own guitar strap off over his head and placed it on the bed nearby. Then he picked up the brand-new, leather guitar case she had put on the floor and opened it on his lap, whistling when he extracted the shiny, fine-grained wood instrument and turned it over.

As Edgehill's leading recording artist, Rayna was now making more money in one year than either of them had ever dreamed of earning in a lifetime, when they had first started out. And Deacon knew that she and Teddy were living large these days. They clearly spared no expense on anything.

Two years earlier, they had purchased an enormous house in a neighborhood that was home to many of Nashville's music elite. Deacon had been there once or twice, but he didn't much like the place. It felt, first and foremost, like Teddy's house. And being there made Deacon feel like he hardly knew Rayna anymore; like she had embraced the life that she worked so hard to escape when the two of them were young.

Deacon looked closely at the child-sized guitar he was holding. Obviously, Rayna had spent a fortune on it. Rayna had said it was the only thing Maddie wanted for her birthday, and since she'd gotten it, the little girl had practically refused to put it down, carrying it around everywhere and even sleeping with it at night. Apparently there had been a temper tantrum when Rayna drew the line at Maddie's taking the guitar to preschool.

Deacon could relate. He still remembered how obsessed he'd been with the small, hand-me-down guitar his father had put into his hands when he was about Maddie's age. Of course, no one in his family had even considered paying for lessons. Someone showed you a few chords and you fooled around with them, and then you picked up a few more. You copied a cousin's picking style and a lick you heard on the radio. Eventually, you could make something that sounded like music.

He put the guitar on his knee and started tuning the nylon strings while Maddie watched him, fascinated.

"That's got a real good sound, Maddie. You're gonna have a lot of fun with this."

"Play me a song!"

"Hmmmm … okay."

He tried out a few chords, squeezing his fingers in between the small frets, and then launched into a fast, upbeat rendition of "Happy Birthday" while Maddie jumped up and down in delight.

"Me, me! I wanna do it."

"Well, honey, it takes a long time to learn how to do that. Music's not somethin' you can make right away, you have to work at it a while. But I can show ya a few things, if ya want."

She nodded, eagerly, and pushed her glasses back up onto the bridge of her nose again.

"Okay…." He looked around, spotting a pencil and notepad on the desk in front of him.

"Can you write your name?"

"I think so..."

He tore off a piece of paper and put it on the desk. Then he placed the pencil flat on his palm, offering it to her.

She reached for it with her right hand and laboriously wrote several large, shaky capital letters.

M-A-I

"That's real good, honey. And you're right-handed, so that makes it easy. Let's see …"

He got up and pulled an ottoman out of the corner and placed it in front of his chair, seating Maddie on it. Then he stood behind her and lowered the guitar into place on her lap, positioning her left hand on the fingerboard and bringing her right arm around to hug the body of the instrument.

He stepped in front of her and looked down, squatting to adjust her arms.

"You're lookin' awful pretty, sittin' there. How's that feel?"

She nodded. "Good."

"Well, let's see here …."

Downstairs, in an enormous white party tent, Rayna and Bucky were working the crowd of record executives, investors, musicians and hangers-on exactly like the pair of canny pros that they were. They had unconsciously perfected a system in which Bucky would scout for important conversations while Rayna smiled and chatted up whoever was right in front of her. Once Bucky saw an opening with someone she needed to charm, he would walk up and lightly tap the inside of her left elbow, signaling her to wrap up her current conversation with an air kiss or two and follow him into the fray.

At this moment, however, the elbow-tapping was coming from her right side, and Teddy was the initiator.

"Rayna…"

"And then _I said_ …. Um, excuse me a 'sec, would you? Y'all remember my husband, Teddy Conrad, don't you? What is it, honey?"

Teddy pulled her aside and spoke in a low voice.

"Have you seen Maddie lately?"

Rayna smiled widely and turned back to the group of industry executives who were waiting to continue their conversation. She held up her left index finger and nodded at them.

"I'll be with y'all in one sec, sorry …"

Then she turned back to Teddy, her eyes widening.

"Nooooo. I thought you were keeping an eye on her. You know Bucky and I have a bunch of contacts we need to make at this party. And you were the one who was supposed to get a babysitter."

"I did get a babysitter, I told you that. She flaked on me at the last minute and I couldn't find anybody else."

She looked at him, beyond exasperated.

"Yes. And that's why you were supposed to watch her."

"I was … but I ran into George Howard. He's doing that development out by the airport that could be a really great opportunity for us. He wanted to talk and I turned my back for like, two minutes, and when I turned around she was gone."

"_God almighty_, Teddy! Please tell me there's not a swimming pool or some pond around here she could get into."

He thought a moment.

"No, there's no water at all on the property. I've been here for summer fundraisers and walked the whole place."

She sighed and relaxed a little.

"_Jesus_…okay. Ummm … why don't you look around inside here and go out to the back, and I'll see if I can find her in the house. She's probably holed up in a corner with a book. You know how she hates crowds."

"Yeah, okay. Call my cell if you find her and I'll do the same on my end."

Rayna nodded and turned back to the impatient suits, some of whom were already drifting into other conversations.

"I'm so sorry, y'all will have to excuse me. I need to find a place to … freshen up."

Bucky walked up just then and took her arm.

"David Stormer is over there, he flew out specifically from L.A. I'd love to have you connect with him. He's doing some really exciting things with staging. I'm thinking about us taking a meeting with him to talk about set design, maybe for the tour next year."

"Bucky, I'm sorry. Teddy's managed to lose Maddie and I need to go see if I can find her. Gimme 10 minutes, okay babe? You hold down the fort here and I'll be back with you as soon as I can."

Rayna turned and threaded her way through the voluminous white party tent, brimming with beautiful decorations and even more beautiful people, and made her way toward the kitchen of the Nashville estate that had been rented out for this occasion. Once inside, she quickly spotted Julie Thompson, the new event planning dynamo who headed up Edgehill's marketing and PR department. She was racing around the kitchen, barking orders at the frenetic catering staff.

"Julie …"

"Rayna! How lovely to see you! How are the hors d'oeuvres? Do we have enough food out there?"

The two women hugged and touched cheeks in the manner that had become the default greeting in the business.

"Hey, what're you doing in here, anyway? You need to be out there mingling!"

"Oh god, Julie. We had to bring our daughter with us today, our sitter fell through, and my husband's lost track of her. Did y'all see her come through here? She's real little, wears glasses, she was carrying a guitar around?"

"Oh, um … yeah, I think I did see her. I didn't know she was yours! She's adorable. Uh, I saw her walk through here maybe … 15 minutes ago? She went through that door. I thought she was looking for the ladies' room."

Rayna breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thank you, hon. I'm gonna go track her down, make sure she's not getting into any trouble. I'll be back in a flash. The party's amazing, by the way. The food's great."

She turned to go, but Julie stopped her.

"Hey, if you run into the birthday boy, tell him to get himself back here, would you?"

"Deacon? I saw him when we first came in. What'd he do, vanish on you?"

"Yeah. He was here playing nice for about an hour, and since then nobody's been able to locate him. We want to do a toast and have him the cut the cake before people start leaving."

"Oh, man. Y'know, I tried to y'all but no one would listen. He just hates these networking things; they've always been torture for him and he never liked all the attention on his birthday in the first place. Then since he's been sober, parties have been even harder for him. I wish Edgehill would just quit insisting on doing this every year."

"Rayna, we have a brand to promote, and entertaining is a great way to bring together our stakeholders. When we can introduce them to the talent, and let them take photos and meet them up close – well, it's just an opportunity we can't pass up."

"I know, I've heard the business case a million times, and I get it. He's just old school, y'know? Never got comfortable with the corporate side of the industry. But listen … if I run into him I'll drag him back to the party, I promise."

Rayna turned and walked through the doorway that Julie had indicated. She found herself inside a large home that epitomized understated Southern opulence. It was decorated in a modern style, with quiet but expensive good taste. The people who owned it had been living in Europe for the past year, something to do with a family business expansion, and the grounds were frequently rented out for large corporate events.

Rayna had never been inside – the house itself was technically off-limits to party guests – so she looked around, curious, as she wandered through looking for her daughter.

At five, Maddie Conrad was a shy, serious girl who had both delighted and baffled her parents from the day she was born. She was an easygoing, if sometimes melancholy, introvert born into an extended family of extroverts, as different from both the Wyatts and the Conrads as she could be.

"I don't know who that child takes after!" Teddy's mother never tired of commenting. "Nobody in our family is so quiet and well-behaved, that's for sure."

In a sea of larger-than-life personalities, Maddie could easily have gotten lost, had it not been for two parents who adored and protected her. Maddie and Teddy had bonded from Day One, and the little girl idolized the man who spent as much time with her as her mother did.

Maddie had always gone on tour with Rayna and an au pair, where she was coddled and adored by all of Rayna's crew. Deacon in particular had taken a real liking to her, and vice versa, Rayna often noted wistfully. But when she was in town, Rayna worked late so many nights that it often fell to Teddy to handle Maddie's dinner and bedtime routine. He had not only stepped up to the Mr. Mom job, he had thrived at it.

Still, Rayna sometimes felt that she was the only person who truly understood Maddie; who knew instinctively what she was thinking and feeling just by looking at the expression on her face. She knew, for instance, that while most little girls Maddie's age were already into sparkling ponies and princess dresses, Maddie still loved dolls. And Rayna could see that she was destined to become a book worm, too: She was one of the few in her preschool class already starting to write letters and recognize words.

Her first love was music, however, and it was on that level that she and Rayna connected deepest, going all the way back to when she was an infant. Even when she was screaming with colic, Maddie never failed to quiet down whenever Rayna sang to her.

Rayna's search exhausted the rooms on the first floor. She discovered a narrow staircase in the back of the house and started up it. When she got to the landing she immediately heard the sound of a guitar. Well, she thought, that explained where Deacon had escaped to. No surprise there.

But when she walked down the hallway toward the music, there was a surprise awaiting her. And as she approached the open bedroom door, what she saw inside stopped her in her tracks.

Maddie and Deacon were seated facing each other, holding their guitars in identical positions and talking animatedly.

Rayna instinctively stepped back, where she could observe but not be seen, her heart hammering suddenly and her chest tightening.

To her, the resemblance was beyond striking. Thankfully, Tandy was the only other person who'd noticed, and _she_ had never failed to mention it privately to Rayna, especially early on. Teddy never said a word about it, and others apparently never thought about it. Deacon and Teddy were similar physical types after all, no doubt part of Rayna's attraction to both of them. If anyone wondered, they were perhaps simply too polite to engage in such scandalous speculation - at least not to Rayna's face.

But Rayna had seen it from the first day that Maddie smiled.

She had reached that milestone later than the average baby, so late in fact that Rayna had started to worry in the obsessive way that all new mothers do, no matter how many times their pediatricians reassure them.

That afternoon, she had been changing her baby's diaper and singing to her when that first true smile broke over Maddie's face. Rayna had stared a moment and then burst into tears. It wasn't the smile exactly: Not the nose, nor the chin. But there was something – the shape of her face, the twinkle in her eyes - something elusive about this tiny girl that was pure Deacon.

The realization had hit Rayna like a ton of bricks and prompted Teddy to come running.

"What's wrong?"

"She just smiled at me," Rayna had sobbed.

"I thought that was a good thing. Isn't it?"

"It is … it is," Rayna had said, picking up Maddie and cradling her close.

Teddy had sighed, baffled, and taken them both of them into his arms.

"Honey, calm down. Aren't those hormones supposed to start winding down by now?"

From that day forward, Rayna had often thought that getting to know her daughter was like getting to know Deacon all over again. She remembered how often he had extolled the virtues of the women in his family; their talent and their kindness. She saw all that in Maddie, as well as a hint of his darker side: His stubbornness, his moods, his quintessential loneliness.

Sometimes she wondered if she'd contributed anything to this child beyond an X chromosome. Maddie's current obsession with her guitar had surprised the hell out of Teddy; for Rayna, it had been almost predictable.

Now, as she watched the two of them laughing over their music, Rayna felt suddenly light-headed and out of breath. There was something so … right … about the two of them, together. She swallowed hard and took a step forward.

"Mama!" Maddie was beaming at her. "Watch me! Watch what I can do!"

Deacon turned and looked over his shoulder.

"Hey, Rayna."

She walked into the room and sat on the bed next to Maddie.

"What're y'all doing up here? Maddie, your Daddy and I have been looking all over for you. And now you're bothering your Uncle Deacon."

Both of them protested at once.

"He's teaching me to play my guitar!"

"She's not botherin' me, Ray."

Rayna put her hands up to stop them. "Julie's about to send out a search party for you, Deacon. And Maddie, you know you're not supposed to just wander off without telling your Daddy or me."

Deacon looked at Maddie pointedly. "You wandered off?"

The girl dropped her eyes. "I guess so," she said, before brightening. "Mama! Look what I can do."

Maddie bent her head close to her guitar and lined up her fingers carefully on the strings, attempting to strum with her right hand.

"Whoops … hang on a sec," Deacon said, leaning forward and sliding her left hand up the neck of the guitar. "You got your fingers just perfect, but you wanna put 'em right … _there._ Okay, try it again."

The little girl brushed her hand over the strings determinedly, producing a small, dismal sound.

Deacon beamed, nonetheless. "That's real good."

Rayna smiled, too. "I'm glad you're learning, sweetie. When you get your first lesson next week, you can show your teacher you already know how to play an A chord."

"Lessons?" Deacon scoffed. "She doesn't need lessons, Ray. Maddie's a natural; got all your talent. She's gonna pick up the guitar in no time, you wait and see."

"Well, I wouldn't be surprised, Deacon. I really wouldn't. C'mon, Maddie, tell Uncle Deacon thank you and let's go find Daddy."

"Uncle Deacon, will you play me another song?"

"Maddie, your Daddy's looking for you … "

"One more – please!?"

Deacon looked at Rayna with the kind of look she'd always had trouble refusing.

Rayna sighed and nodded. "Okay, one more."

Deacon strummed his guitar and looked at Maddie with a smile.

"Let's see… here's one I bet your mama played for you when you were just a little bitty thing."

"_Hush little baby, don't say a word; daddy's gonna-"_

Rayna did not realize that she had fled the room until she was halfway down the hall, one hand pressed to her mouth, her eyes squeezed shut to hold back the tears. That lump in her chest was rising into her throat by now, until she feared it would strangle her.


	7. Chapter 7

**February 2005 (cont.)**

Rayna had nearly reached the end of the hallway when she collided with Teddy, who had just come up the stairs. He caught her, his hands on her upper arms.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa…." His eyes widened as he took in the distress on her face. "Did you find her? What's wrong?!"

She stared up at him, momentarily unable to reply. Then he caught the sound of Deacon's voice crooning the lullaby and looked around sharply. Before Rayna could stop him, Teddy spun on his heel and marched down the hall toward the sound.

He stopped in the bedroom doorway.

"What the _hell_ is going on in here?"

Rayna hurried toward him and caught his arm just as he started into the room.

"Teddy. It's okay, she's fine …."

Rayna glanced in at Deacon and Maddie, identical looks of confusion on their faces, then pulled Teddy back into the hall.

"Teddy," she repeated, lowering her voice, willing him to understand. "Please."

She inclined her head toward the bedroom and Teddy followed her gaze. A look of comprehension came over his face at the sight of Deacon and Maddie together. He softened, then walked into the room, his voice quieter.

"Maddie honey, what are you doing here? You were supposed to stay at the party where I could see you, remember?"

"I know, Daddy. That dumb party was no fun."

"Well, maybe not, but you shouldn't have left without asking me. I was worried about you."

Teddy lifted the guitar off her lap. She did not protest.

"Come on, it's getting close to your bedtime and I'm going to take you home. Bucky'll give your mom a ride home later. How about you and I stop off for some ice cream on the way?"

"Yay!" she said, clapping her hands.

Teddy put the guitar into its case and latched it shut. Then he picked Maddie up and turned to leave the room. Before he did, he looked over at Deacon, still sitting silently with his guitar on his lap.

"Uh … thanks Deacon. I'm sorry I ... barked at you like that."

"No problem. I didn't know y'all had lost track of her. She's … a great kid. You and Rayna oughta be proud."

"We are," Teddy said. He paused at the door so Rayna could lean in and kiss the little girl's cheek.

"Good night Maddie," she said. "Say goodbye and thank you to Uncle Deacon."

"Thank you, Uncle Deacon."

"You're welcome, sweetie. You keep practicin' okay? Next time I see you, I wanna see what you learned."

Rayna and Teddy exchanged a brief look. She pecked him on the cheek and watched the two of them walk down the hall.

She knew she should get back to the party, but somehow Rayna could not leave just yet. She leaned in the bedroom doorway and watched Deacon wipe down his guitar with a soft rag.

A kind of calm equilibrium had settled over their relationship in the previous couple of years. It was a marked, and welcome, contrast to the tension and awkwardness between them after she had gotten back to work, once Maddie had been weaned. Deacon's hurt and anger had been palpable back then, their relationship chilly and strictly professional.

But over the years those stronger emotions seemed to have faded. Rayna had been consumed with the exhausting demands of motherhood, making things work in a marriage that had started out amid the most difficult circumstances possible, and her rocketing music career. Deacon, of course, had benefited from her career trajectory as well. And he had turned a laser-like focus on securing his sobriety, pursuing it with a single-mindedness Rayna had never seen in him in their years together.

She had admired his progress as the months turned into years and he became increasingly stable. Although they weren't exactly friends by now, they had forged a good working relationship and they got along fine, both on-stage and off.

As far as Rayna was concerned, she had made the choices she had to, period. And she didn't intend to waver from them. It was hard, though, to ignore the question that sometimes arose in the back of her mind: Why now, Deacon? Why did you have to wait until it was too late?

He looked up and caught her staring at him.

"What the_ fuck_ was that all about, Rayna? You flew out of here like a bat outta hell. And then Teddy …"

She looked down.

"Oh. Um, it's just, well, the way Maddie took off, y'know. We were scared. I should've called Teddy when I saw you two up here but … I forgot. It was my fault he overreacted."

Deacon didn't quite follow this explanation, but he seemed to accept it anyway.

"I'm sorry, Rayna. I shoulda brought her down to you right away. She just … looked so miserable."

"And you could relate. Right?"

He heaved a sigh.

"I hate these goddamned parties, Ray. All the schmoozin' - or networkin' - or whatever the fuck they're callin' it these days. It's not for me."

She walked across the room and sat down on the bed across from him.

"I know. I tried to tell them not to do it this year; they wouldn't listen to me. I'm gonna put my foot down next year, I promise."

"Yeah, well there's not gonna be a next year. Come next birthday, I don't care who's throwin' what stupid party, I'll be at my place with my popcorn and 'Old Yeller' on my TV."

She laughed.

"Don't tell me you're still watching that movie, Deacon."

"Sure, every year. It's my birthday treat."

"They finally put it out on DVD, huh?"

"I dunno. I watch the video."

"What? Why?"

He looked over at her, an odd, intense look on his face.

"'Cause you gave it to me, Ray."

The back of her neck prickled a warning. And out of nowhere, an image flashed into Rayna's mind: Her old overnight bag, the black leather one that had accompanied them on their early tours, stuffed into a corner of her walk-in closet under a pile of sweaters and scarves.

Inside was a sentimental collection, the bits and pieces left over from the 11-year intersection of their lives: Valentine's Day cards, pressed flowers, ticket stubs, costume jewelry, letters, one of Deacon's worn flannel shirts, a concert poster advertising their first, thrilling gig in Greenwich Village. And secreted behind a tear in the lining, an envelope full of naughty notes. He had tortured her with them on their tour bus one long, hot summer, back when it was all they could do to keep their hands off each other.

That suitcase should have been discarded years ago. It was wrong – and dangerous - to keep it in her closet. But somehow, Rayna had never been able to let it go; never even been able to pack it far away.

She thought now about that videotape. So, Deacon had his treasured mementos, too.

He stood up and placed his guitar into its case and shut it. Then he sat down on the bed next to her.

She shifted away from him slightly.

"Don't you remember when you gave me that birthday present, Rayna? Do you know that was 10 years ago today?"

"Oh my god, was it really that long ago? Geez, that makes me feel old."

"You're still young."

"I guess …. Sometimes I sure don't feel like it."

They sat quietly, side by side, both knowing they needed to move on, neither in a hurry to leave. Rayna tilted her head and looked up at the ceiling.

"I do remember that day. It was after one of these Edgehill parties, wasn't it? I was so hung over, Christ …"

"You about took my head off, is what I remember."

She laughed and smacked his arm.

"You liar! I did not. We did have a fight, though. I don't even remember what it was about. I was still living at that apartment and you came over for dinner that night, remember?"

"Yup. And then we made up."

"Oh, we always made up. You made sure of that."

They were smiling at each other now, eyes flashing. Rayna was both astonished at how easy it was to fall back into this place with him and aware that they were closing in on dangerous territory. This road had been closed off for years; and each of them knew exactly how to push the other's buttons. Still, she continued.

"That was just before we bought that place around the corner from the studio, right? Man, that was a great little house."

"Yeah. Until everybody got wind we were livin' right there. Pretty soon we had a party on our hands four nights a week. It got pretty wild, if I remember."

"You don't remember much Deacon, trust me. You were the wildest one in the bunch."

"Oh, I don't doubt it, Ray. You had your hands full with me back then, that's for sure."

"Yup. You were a real headache."

She smiled and leaned over, nudging his shoulder playfully with her own. "It was fun, though."

"It was. That was back when the music business was a whole lot more about the music and a whole lot less about the business."

"And that was back when we were living in 700-square-feet and racing to the bank before the mortgage payment bounced, Deacon."

He chuckled, shaking his head.

"How could I forget? We didn't have much back then, did we, Rayna? We always had each other, though. Guess that's what counted."

The truth of his words - how the little things hadn't seemed to matter when they were together - struck Rayna profoundly. She was unable to meet his gaze, the lump in her throat suddenly larger than ever. She fell silent for a moment, lost in the memories, then spoke softly.

"Feels like a million years ago, doesn't it?"

"Sometimes. And sometimes it feels like it was just last week."

The stupid tears welled up behind her eyes. She drew a shaky breath and looked at him.

"We had some good times, didn't we, Deacon?"

"'Course we did, sugar."

The tears spilled over Rayna's cheeks and she looked down. He took her hand.

"Hey now, Ray. I'm the one gettin' old. You're not supposed to be cryin'."

Before she had time to think, Rayna reached for him, pulling him into her embrace and closing her eyes. She pressed her face into the crook of his neck and he closed his arms around her, burying his face in her hair.

This place, right here in his arms, had always felt like the only place in the world where she truly belonged.

"It's okay, darlin'," he whispered.

"I'm sorry, Deacon. I don't know what's got into me. It's just seein' you here … and Maddie … and it's your birthday, I dunno. I guess I shouldn't be thinking about old times and all. Don't pay me any mind. I must be hormonal or something …."

Rayna realized that she was babbling. She also realized that she was not letting him go.

She became dimly aware, after a moment, that he was rocking her gently, in that way he'd always done to comfort her when she was sad. His hands were rubbing over her back and stroking her hair.

It would be so easy to relax into him, so familiar and warm, to bask in the closeness of his body and the smell of his skin, which had always been so powerfully sexy for her.

Instead, Rayna forced herself to retreat, pulling her head back until she was looking up at him. He was looking back at her, his arms still around her. For a moment, they searched each other's eyes, faces close, as if they could read each other's minds.

Which, of course, they could.

Simultaneously, both Rayna and Deacon dropped their arms and stood up.

"Wow," he said under his breath, turning away swiftly. "Uh… I better get back downstairs before Julie writes me a demerit or somethin'."

"Yeah, god, Bucky's probably called 9-1-1 by now, looking for me. He's gonna give me hell for abandoning him in that shark tank."

They each moved toward the door at exactly the same moment, jumping when their shoulders bumped together. She hesitated, looking at him.

"Go ahead; after you," he said, gesturing, and she walked swiftly out the door and down the hall, leaving him behind without another glance.

Deacon's last Edgehill birthday party was a huge success, to hear anyone tell it years later. A legendary event in a legendary industry: Important contacts made, huge egos soothed, a major record label PR triumph.

It was after 2 a.m. when Rayna finally opened her bedroom door that night and heard Teddy's soft breathing.

She quietly undressed and slipped on a T-shirt and her boxers. She closed the bathroom door, brushing her teeth and taking off her makeup, then heard him stirring.

"How was the party?" he mumbled, as she turned off the bathroom light and started for her side of the bed.

"Sorry, babe. It was fine. I was trying not to wake you."

"It's okay. I can't sleep without you anyway."

"You must have a hard time when I'm on the road."

"I do. I miss you so much."

Rayna smiled softly and pulled back the covers, climbing in.

"Hey, I want to talk to you about Maddie."

"Why? Did she not go down to sleep on time?"

"Oh no, she was fine. Insisted on sleeping with that guitar again. I put it in the case and laid it on the floor next to her after she dozed off."

Rayna chuckled softly.

"She is really in love with that thing."

"Rayna, I thought we were going to get her private lessons."

"We are. I've got them set up for next week."

"I'm … not comfortable with her spending time with Deacon."

"Babe, he was just being nice. She asked him to show her some stuff, he did. He didn't go looking for her, she found him."

"God, Rayna. That man walks on water as far as you're concerned, doesn't he? Why do you always defend him?"

"What? Teddy, what are you talking about?"

"Well, I was concerned about our daughter and you told me you were going to call when you found her. I was looking all over for her and I never heard a word from you. By the time I find her, she's there with you and Deacon. What the hell am I supposed to think, Rayna?"

She turned toward him and reached out for his hand.

"I'm sorry, babe. It's my fault; I should have called you right away, I know. It's just … seeing the two of them together like that, well …"

"Well, what?"

"Well … it rattled me."

There was silence from across the wide chasm in the middle of the king-sized bed. They had agreed years earlier never to revisit the decision they had made together. They knew Maddie's well-being depended on it.

The quiet lasted so long that Rayna thought Teddy had fallen back to sleep. Then he scooted over and put his arms around her.

"When are we going to have another baby?"

"Mmmmm … one of these days."

"That's what you keep saying. But you're not serious."

"I am, Teddy. It's just, you know this is a really bad time for me. I've got the album to finish and I'm supposed to do a tour to promote it next year. Getting pregnant now would put all that on hold."

"Look Rayna, I know how important your career and your fans are to you. But you also have a husband. And I want a baby of my … another baby to love. And you know Maddie needs a brother or sister. She's five now, she'll be in school this fall. This seems like a perfect time to me."

He leaned forward and kissed her, once and then again, but Rayna did not respond.

"Where are you, honey? You're a million miles away."

"Oh, I dunno, Teddy. I'm kind of exhausted, really. Can we … take a rain check on this … discussion? I've gotta be up early."

Teddy moved abruptly away, retreating to his side of the bed.

"It's okay, Rayna. I get the hint."

"I'm sorry, babe. I owe you one."

_"Jesus Christ."_

"What … what's wrong?"

"Could you make it sound any colder? I want to make love to my wife, not engage in some kind of business transaction."

Rayna was silent, stung by his candor. She reached over and stroked his back.

"You're right, Teddy. I'm sorry, I didn't mean it to … come out that way. And yes, Maddie does need a brother or sister, I agree. We're gonna find a way to make it happen. Soon."

"Good."

She scooted over and snuggled up against his back, snaking her arms around this man who had stepped into her life when she needed him most. This generous, capable man who had been the kind of loving, attentive father to Maddie that Rayna had longed for herself as a child.

She owed Teddy her whole life, she knew that. And what had happened earlier, with Deacon: It had scared her to death. The ease with which they had rekindled their spark – and how close it had come to burning out of control – shocked the hell out of her. If either of them had let down their guard for just a minute longer … well, Rayna didn't know where she'd be right now, but it sure as hell wouldn't be in this bed with Teddy.

She shivered and Teddy turned toward her, kissing her forehead and pulling her close. "What's the matter, honey, are you cold? I can turn the thermostat up if you want."

"No, I'm fine. I'm just … I'm glad I'm here with you."

"Me too. What're you getting up for tomorrow, anyway? Have you got an early rehearsal or something? That'd be a first."

"Oh, um, no. I just … well, I'm thinking of doing some spring cleaning, actually. I really need to go through my closet. I've got some baggage in there that needs to be thrown out. That's for sure."

_A/N: Many thanks to leave me light for beta-reading this chapter._


	8. Chapter 8

Rayna looked down at the yellow legal pad on her lap and scanned the jumble of words. Most had been crossed out or rewritten. Intersecting lines snaked across several pages, linking disparate trains of thought. She flipped to a clean sheet, then went back through her notes and copied out three full lines, humming under her breath as she wrote:

_Sunrise hurts as much as you/You both come up when I don't want you to_

_Oh I can still hear you say/That you and I would both be better off that way_

_I act like I don't know/Where this road will go_

She looked at the objects scattered around her on the closet floor: A bracelet made of lavender glass beads, won at a county fair somewhere in the Midwest; several dozen greeting cards - some funny, some sappy, some sweet. Assorted concert programs, ticket stubs, posters, advertisements torn from magazines - most bearing her likeness, or his, or both.

A stack of yellow Kodak envelopes containing photographs of two impossibly young, impossibly beautiful people, smiling in front of one landmark or other; always holding hands or kissing, their arms wrapped around each other.

And off to the side, a manila folder labeled "rehab" - the one thing she hadn't been able to open this afternoon.

Rayna sighed and stacked everything neatly back into the worn, black leather bag lying open in front of her. She picked up a folded, red-and-black plaid shirt and brought it to her face, inhaling deeply. Was there still a faint reminder of him, lingering in the fabric? She thought there was.

She laid it carefully into place. How many times had she tried to discard this suitcase, this collection of memories? She'd lost count.

It was only now that she realized how glad she was that she had failed.

She picked up a jeweler's box and flipped it open, fingering a fine gold chain running through two small, intertwined hearts. She had taken it off for good on her wedding day.

She reached for her pen and added another couplet to her page, this one coming out right on the first try:

_These things that I run to/What I put my heart through_

Rayna shut the box and slipped it into a pocket in the bag, then looked around, surprised to see that it was growing dark. She still wasn't sure what to do about the surprise party Juliette was throwing tonight for Deacon, down at the Bluebird Cafe. Part of her wanted to hunker down at home and hide from any more drama. Another part latched on fiercely to Lamar's unexpected encouragement earlier that afternoon: To hell with all of them.

There was one thing she was sure about, now. This song she was writing, this trip through memory lane, made her see clearly that the recent mess in her life was not all her fault. She had tried – really tried – to make things work with Teddy. And she would still be trying, if he hadn't given up first.

It was just that Deacon had defined her life for so long that his mark on it was indelible. Even if she had tossed away these mementos, she knew, the memories would always beckon her back. Maybe that's what it meant, having a soul mate.

She started to close the bag when the torn lining caught her eye. She smiled to herself and slipped her hand inside, fishing for the envelope she knew would be there. She pulled it out and opened it, extracting several scraps of paper and unfolding them. The words, scrawled in his handwriting, could still make her blush.

_What year was it? And where had they been? _

Texas. Or Oklahoma, maybe. It was their first tour: A long, hot slog through what felt like every redneck bar and honky-tonk joint across the South, long before they'd met Bucky, when they were just beginning to find their way - with each other and the music business.

The notes had started as a way to be creative during the long hours on the road. They'd write separately and then exchange pages, collaborating on the guitar at the end of the day.

Then one especially dull afternoon, his lyrics had taken a decidedly explicit turn. And she had responded with some lurid thoughts of her own. It became something of a habit after that, both of them aware that their chemistry enhanced their creative process, as well as their shows, turning what might have been sleepy love songs into displays of honest passion that left their audiences raw.

Rayna could still picture the godforsaken gas station, squatting in a wide spot on a long country road. The tour bus had over-heated in the summer swelter and their driver was haggling with the local mechanic. She and the crew had retreated to the dingy diner next door and ordered lunch.

Deacon had disappeared as soon as the bus had stopped. Rayna suspected he'd already found an open bar. Then he'd walked up to the table and taken her hand.

"Hey everybody, I need to borrow Rayna for a little bit," he'd announced, yanking her to her feet.

"Hey! I just got my BLT. What's your hurry?!" she'd asked, looking at him in surprise.

"Have 'em wrap it up, you can eat it on the road."

"What? Why?"

"Darlin', it's urgent. I'm sorry fellas, see ya back on the bus. We won't be long."

He'd hustled her out the back door as if the building was on fire. Outside, she had stopped and stared at him, mystified.

"What in the _world's _gotten into you?"

"I gotta show you somethin'," he'd said. "C'mere."

He walked her to the back parking lot and pointed.

Rayna's mouth fell open and she looked over at him, laughing in astonishment. He looked back at her with a wicked grin.

"Oh no, you _can't_ be serious, Deacon. Are you drunk?"

About 50 yards off the road was a cluster of stucco resort cottages that had clearly seen better days. A garish sign above them advertised: "Air-Conditioned Comfort Cabins"; and below it, in saucy italics: _"Pay By The Hour."_

"I never been more sober in my life, darlin'," he said, pulling her close to him in the middle of the parking lot and kissing her full on the mouth. "I want you somethin' fierce, Ray."

She looked around, embarrassed, and wriggled away from him.

"Deacon, you just had me last night," she said, her voice low. But he led her around behind a fence and pressed her up against the wooden slats, silencing her with another kiss. This one succeeded in making her knees weak.

"Last night was a long time ago, Ray. That doesn't count. I want you right now."

"God, Deacon Claybourne, I swear you're insatiable."

"Rayna, don't even talk. You're as bad as I am, and you know it. Worse, probably."

She started to deny it but he was kissing her again. And besides, they both knew it was true.

When they first met, she was inexperienced. But he was a patient teacher and endlessly creative. She trusted him completely; he delighted in finding new ways to give her pleasure.

On tour, the sexual tension between them would build all day and spill over on stage at night, after which they would retreat to their room to work it out, sometimes fast and furious and other times slowly, lingering over long hours.

"You can sleep on the bus tomorrow," he would say.

Leaned up against the fence behind the diner, Rayna felt him nuzzling her neck and kissing the hollow at the base of her throat. She felt her resolve crumbling and brought her hands up, running her fingers through his hair. His hands encircled her lower back.

"Oh god …" she breathed.

He grinned, knowing he was winning, and began kissing his way down toward her cleavage, slipping his hand under her short skirt and running it over the cotton panties covering her ass.

"_Jesus, Deacon …"_

Her eyes were closed and her heart was racing. She glanced over at the cabins again, reconsidering, and winced.

"It's gonna be soooo dirty in there…"

He lifted his head and looked at her, his eyes burning.

"That's okay, Ray. So are we."

"So are we - what?"

"Gonna be dirty in there. You know it's a whole lot more fun that way."

"_Oh god…"_

A pang of lust stabbed her in the gut and she put her hands on his face and pulled him toward her, kissing him hotly. After a few minutes, she paused, whispering two words against his mouth.

"_Fuck me." _

He smiled, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

"That's the plan."

This time, she was the one who took his hand and led him across the parking lot. He laughed at the sudden role reversal.

"Who's in a hurry now, Ray?"

"Shut up, Deacon, before I change my mind."

That comment prompted him to break into a sprint. She followed close behind him, laughing and shrieking.

It was perhaps inevitable that their drummer, a good ol' Alabama boy, had emerged from the men's room behind the diner at just that moment. He'd stood there, staring, then returned to the diner still shaking his head.

"I tell you, I saw the both of 'em runnin' – _runnin_', I swear to God – for that sex motel around back."

For the duration of the tour they couldn't get through a single sound check without someone suggesting they needed to "get a room." It was a line that never seemed to grow old, much to Rayna's embarrassment and Deacon's obvious delight.

Back on the closet floor, Rayna laughed out loud, remembering it all. Then she stopped, wondering when she'd last felt that kind of passion. And it came to her, crystal clear: That kiss, in the elevator in Chicago.

She picked up her pen and scrawled:

_I can barely stand up/I can hardly breathe_

She put the envelope back into its hiding place and zipped the suitcase shut, stashing it behind several boxes of summer clothes and heaping coats and scarves up on top.

Still humming the tune she'd composed earlier, Rayna walked downstairs, turning on the lights in the house as she went, and headed straight for the music room. She put in another hour at the piano, grateful that Tandy had offered to let the girls spend the night at her house.

At last, Rayna was happy with what she had. But doubt still nagged at her. Should she even do this? Were these the right words? She picked up her phone.

"Hey Ray."

"Hey Watty. Did you leave already for Deacon's party?"

"Not yet."

"Would you do me a huge favor? Would you be willing to come by and … I just wanna play you something."

"Sure. See ya in a bit."

"You're a sweetheart. All right, I'll see ya."

He was at her house 20 minutes later, just as she was revising the final verse.

"Whatcha got, Ray?"

"I'm not sure. Um … I'm calling it `Stronger Than Me.' See what you think."

Watty leaned against the wall and listened, as Rayna opened a vein and bled out all over her beautiful piano. When she finished he was silent for a while.

"That's … pretty intense, Rayna."

"Yeah, I know. That's what I'm worried about. Is it too much? My life's splashed all over the place right now. Should I be putting this out there in the world, too?"

"Y'know, it's funny, Ray. I ran into this kid today, he was buying a real pricey guitar. You might know him, he used to date Deacon's niece, Scarlett. He asked me something about how he should break into the business. You know what I told him?"

"Hmmm ... I bet I can guess. `There's no_ should_ in music'?"

"That's right. You learned that a long time ago. Writing music is not about what you _should _say, or what you _oughta_ say, or what someone else _tells_ you to say. It's about what you need to say. It's about where you live, deep down."

She looked at him and nodded slowly.

"I know. I guess I … just needed to hear you say it again."

"Is this what you want to say to Deacon?"

"Yeah, Watty. It is."

"Well, you always were brave, Rayna, a hell of a lot braver than most of us. Let me back you up on guitar."

"That'd be fantastic, thanks. I'm gonna ask Pam and Kate to sing, too."

They didn't talk much on the ride over to the Bluebird. Rayna was just glad not to be missing another one of Deacon's birthdays. They had a lot of ground to make up for; way too many years spent apart.

She wondered where they would be on Deacon's next birthday.

She had a lot of work to do. Making sure her children got through this mess was her first priority. Then there were bound to be legal and financial conflicts over the divorce. And she needed to work through her own emotions, still so raw over Teddy's betrayal.

And – always - there was Maddie.

But she and Deacon … yeah. It was starting to feel right. In the not-too-distant future, Rayna could see them spending all their birthdays – hell, all their days and their nights - together.

She pulled up in front of the Bluebird and steeled herself as the crush of photographers mobbed her car.

"Wanna get outta here?"

"_Hell, no._"

She made her way through the crowd, tossing out challenges to some of the locals who ought to know better. She was rewarded as soon as she got inside: He spotted her immediately and smiled, that same warm, wonderful smile that she loved.

"Well. Now this _is_ a surprise party."

"Happy birthday."

"Thank you."

They held each other, needing no words at all. He quickly got pulled away, but she watched him throughout the evening. Every once in a while their eyes would meet and they'd both smile. She was pleased to see how relaxed and happy he looked. He'd never admit it, she knew, but he was actually enjoying himself.

Juliette left the party early, giving Rayna an opening, and she walked to the stage.

From the back corner of the room, Deacon's eyes followed her. She looked at him as she told their friends what they already knew: How she wouldn't be there without him. How a long chain of memories stretched across that very room, connecting them forever. Memories that could never be discarded.

She took a deep breath, her eyes never leaving his.

"Deacon," she said, "this is for you."

THE END

_A/N: Special thanks to my wonderful beta, leave me light, for reading this chapter. Thanks also to Shiny Jewel, whose consistent feedback is always so encouraging. _


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